Surviving the Fall
by tsuchifuru
Summary: A chronicle of Xehanort's rise and fall to power as a Nobody. Featuring Heartless!Xehanort/Xehanort, angst, weird philosophy and much more.
1. Chapter 1

_A/n: Well hello there, everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long. If you'd believe me, I've really had no time to write and publish a ton of fanfiction since school started back in like August. That actually was when this story was written. And I apologize in advance for the vague, vague storyline. Even I don't know what's going on sometimes. i just do what the Xemnasy voice in my head tells me. :D_

_...and yes, this_ will _be multichaptered. Hahaha._

_KH belongs to Nomura, I own nothing, and so without further ado, I present the fiction!!_

* * *

When Xemnas was left to his own bleak devices, he talked to himself. He would walk the empty hallways mumbling to no-one. _Xehanort_ had been like that before all of this as well, waking in the middle of the night and walking around the castle, holding a candle and talking to himself. Braig had thought it funny – at least funnier than what happened when Ienzo would wake unexpectedly. Xehanort wouldn't notice Braig sitting there watching, and he knew nothing of it the next morning when Braig asked him. Ansem said it was sleepwalking. His students thought otherwise.

The first week of nonexistence had been horribly difficult to adjust to. Xaldin and Lexaeus and Xigbar were mostly unaffected, only slightly changed and somehow altered, like _Elaeus, was your hair always so red_? The three of them were the best at keeping their senses about them, and unfortunately that meant that they had to deal with the other three new Nobodies, who were completely hopeless.

Ienzo's sensitivities had come back to Zexion; he ran up the stairs to the towers of the castle and refused to come out, but Lexaeus had coaxed him down with a quiet voice and little contact. Zexion would squirm at the slightest touch, covering his ears and eyes and not having enough hands to cover his nose, which had become the most bothersome. "You can smell the darkness here." He muttered against the tattered blankets Lexaeus had found. Lexaeus nodded lightly, lying, and whispered in his mind, _I know, I know._

Vexen seemed to become far more tired than before, sometimes nodding off in the middle of meetings or conversations. Once he nearly fell out of his chair, nearly plummeted to the ground, if it had not been for Xigbar's quick actions. The castle was an unkind place for the unprepared. And Vexen was unprepared for the hazy staircase on the third floor.

Xehanort's emotions ran amok. He hadn't spoken for the first day (or, at least one revolution of the hours, according to Lexaeus's watch, which had survived the fall.). He was listless as a porcelain doll, half-there, only sixteen years old and already dead.

Finally, he spoke, "What are we?" the words settled and fell on the boys like snowflakes, melting quickly, turning the others colder; no one said a word. They looked at one another unable to answer without denying their own existence. They had died – hadn't they? How could they have survived all of that without leaving their souls behind? Xehanort looked desperately at his once-companions. His face fell and he began to sniffle. There began a cycle of raging emotions, from sorrow to ecstatic joy, to anger. Once, in a fit of blind rage, he nearly strangled Zexion, and after that Xemnas was locked in his room, and there he would cry and scream and fall asleep and wake and cry again.

After two days of this, he'd tried the door and found it locked.

"Ienzo." He called weakly through the lock, "Dilan, Braig, where are you?" There was no answer. "Lexaeus…Vexen, where are you?" Again, no response. "Where are you? Don't leave me alone" the shadows on the streets below worried him. "Where did you go?" he fell to his knees at the door "I'm sorry" he whispered although he didn't really feel any remorse. He felt what little strength he had left leave him as he found himself drawing closer and closer to the floor. It felt cool and smooth and oddly familiar, and he soon fell into the almost-comforting arms of unconsciousness.

Lexaeus unlocked the door later that evening to bring Xehanort some soup he'd found earlier that day. (He was beginning to realize that this was a very bizarre city they'd landed in - at least, he _supposed_ that it was a city, though black fog prevented most of it from being seen - he and Zexion had found an abandoned shop nearby, and they had carried back as many non-perishable foodstuffs as they could hold. Zexion, being logical as always, had asked _why_ they would eat food that had obviously been abandoned, but Lexaeus had no response for that. The soup had tasted like the tin cans that had held it, but Zexion sensed no poisons in it and reluctantly ate.)

Something was in the way of the door. Lexaeus pushed it open, forcing the obstacle out of the way. To his shock, the obstacle was Xehanort. He gave in to panic – earlier, Vexen had nonchalantly asked if it would matter at this point if he were to kill himself, Xaldin rushed over to hold him and forbade it…though he too had contemplated that possibility - Xehanort wasn't moving.

Xehanort was a little pale and mostly unconscious, but alive nonetheless. Lexaeus was not sure whether to be relieved or worried, but he picked the boy up off the ground and carried him across the room to his bed. He set the bowl of soup on a table near the bed and he left.

Far below them, the Heartless danced and danced.

* * *

_Aaaaalrighty, then? Reviews would be very, very nice - whatever you think, whether or not you like it, I appreciate any opinions, because I'd like to see how much else of this I should post (I've got a lot of this, but most of it is bleh-weird-whytheheckdidIwritethis kinda stuff. And they would make me a bit more inspired to get the next part up here. _

_I'm definitely going to put up a second chapter of this, though. It's kind of where the story begins. But you know. Background information and such..._

_And if you're confused by my wayward storyline, feel free to ask any questions. Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

He has tried hard to remember who he was. It was as if he were being created once more, once again but without Ansem's kind embrace to help piece his thoughts together.

It's evening, but Xehanort can't tell; the moon is too bright abd the night is too dark, and someone that he can't see keeps talking to him.

"What is your name?" the deep voice similar to his own asks. It is demanding, but Xehanort has nothing to tell him. He is nothing. The voice calls out again. "Who are you? You know what you've all become – you should have a name for it by now."

_Nonexistence_, Xehanort tries to focus; he's tired and wants nothing more than to go back to Ansem, to apologize a thousand times, to be forgiven and sent to bed, to wake and remember. "Ansem" he whispers, the name fresh in his mind, the only identity he has left. After all, it's what he had scribbled down on his notes and reports. "My name is Ansem." He murmurs, decides.

The dark voice chuckles, "Of course, of course." It smiles. "Well, what _are_ you, Ansem?"

Xehanort isn't sure whether it's getting easier of harder to answer clearly. He thinks, but drifts: reality begins to deviate from its tethers. "I am…" he pauses and sways, "I'm not sure…I'm _nobody_ now." Somewhere far away, he hears a different voice, a voice all to much like Ienzo's when he's getting himself into trouble, but the dark thing has ensnared him and he cannot feel the reassuring constancy of the floor. It's come out of the shadows now, and it's looking at him face-to-face. Xehanort stifles a gasp, tired amber eyes wide.

It is himself. His Heartless, he supposes, he knows. A perfect image of his faults and imperfection stands before him.

"Good." It says "you've figured that part out. I thought it would take you _much_ longer." It steps closer, stroking Xehanort's feathery head. "You're not very bright, you know." It whispers playfully, "So, Ansem," he beseeches, "Now that you're _Nobody_, you can't be Ansem anymore." It thinks for a moment. "Ah, yes. Do you not remember, boy? What your teacher did? He _named_ you…as will I."

With that, he comes close to Xehanort's face, spelling out A-N-S-E-M in silvery letters. He adds an X to the name, and the letters rearrange themselves.

And they become a new name.

X-E-

X-E-M-N-

X-E-M-N-A

"Xemnas...?" The boy reads; the name is new on his lips, foreign-sounding. But he's sure he's heard it somewhere, perhaps in a dream. He simply can't remember now.

"I think you should rest, Xemnas." The Heartless says, pulling his Nobody's warm face closer and kissing the side of his mouth. Xemnas shuts his eyes tight. It smiles and vanishes as it says "You'll make a good Other."

Later, Xemnas opens his eyes. He's shaking and cold, despite the summer heat. There is a bowl of soup on a table nearby, but drinking it makes him feel sick, and he falls asleep once again.

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_I'm tired, mmmmmmmmm'kay? This is how I get myself to sleep. Sorry. Review. Please._

_I'm learning commands in Japanese this week._ By _the way:_

_しょひょうってください〭 _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: You see? I'm not dead; it's summer vacation now! Let's party! :D_

* * *

Xemnas wails in the night, crying then coughing then talking to himself. He claims that his head hurts from falling down into this darkness. He falls again and screams; Xehanort's Heartless is at it again, and Xemnas is delirious and tired and listens and does not protest. The rough and shining zipper on his coat cuts his fingers as he undoes it. The Heartless still smiles: Xehanort tries to ignore it. His hands tremble as the Heartless strokes his hair, running his hands down further than the tangled silky strands.

Xemnas's fever dies down, but the bloodstains on his clothes are still fresh and unexplained. By morning he's collapsed on the altar again.

* * *

Xemnas is half-dreaming when he leaves. Xaldin was _supposed_ to be watching him, but he slips off before anyone realizes. Ienzo steals away into the freezing morning and finds him outside. Xemnas's feet are bare and pink and freezing; he stares at the moon without noticing.

"Xehanort…" Ienzo's voice is quiet and shy and unsure of what to call the person in front of him. "Xehanort, come inside…before you freeze to death." By the end of the sentence, the words are only a whisper. The older boy continues to stare, and Ienzo can see Xehanort's beautiful tears turning to snow on his cheeks. Ienzo treads a bit nearer, careful not to slip and fall on the smooth and icy altar. He cautiously reaches out to touch his once-friend's hand. It's cold like the snow, and he's determined to warm it. Ienzo clasps the chilly hands in his own and waits. Xehanort remains as translucent as before, still staring off into space. Ienzo carefully unties his soft blue scarf and drapes it around his friend's freezing head.

"When we fell, did you hear them?" Ienzo asks, holding Xehanort's hands between his own. Xehanort says nothing. Irritated, Ienzo lets go of his hands and turns back.

He's a few feet away when Xehanort numbly answers. "Yes."

Ienzo whips around and looks at him. "Xehanort!" he runs back to his friend, "What did they tell you?" he demands and whispers, so overcome by curiosity that he doesn't even notice that he's nearly ploughed Xehanort into the snow. Xehanort looks at him for a long time, with his sad jewel-like eyes.

He sighs. "They told me the same things that they told you, Ienzo." He resumes his watch of the moon shining above them. "That we can't feel. We lost our hearts…but we kept our bodies. And our souls, I think."

"I thought you said, when we were in Radiant Garden, that we'd die if we lost our souls." Ienzo says, looking up at Xehanort, or…_whatever_ he's becoming.

Xehanort stared at him for what seemed like eternity. "Aren't we?" He breathes. "Aren't we dead, Ienzo?" He pulls the child into a tight embrace, not entirely for the need of warmth. "_Please_, Ienzo. Tell me that we're dead. Or…" Xehanort makes a strange, choking sound, and continues, "Or even just me...yes, I – I think that'd be best."

"Don't say that!" Ienzo says, hugging Xehanort back, though he's afraid that if Xehanort holds him any closer, he'll break in half. It's Xehanort's fault, all of this, but he feels no need for vengeance: he feels nothing at all. He absently strokes Xehanort's hair and they remain close, despite the other's shaking with cold and sobs. Xehanort collects himself and lets go of Ienzo, embarrassed.

"Let's go inside, Xehanort." Ienzo says quietly, solemnly, carefully taking his once-friend's freezing hand in his own. They drift back indoors and do not come out.

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_Next chapter up soon. Hope you enjoy...'cause I don't really._


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